


This Bitter Earth

by SoundandColor



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Canon - Movie, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Naked Female Clothed Male, Post-Movie(s), Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: Just another day in the meat grinder.





	This Bitter Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).



 

It’s cold out, but the woman sitting on the ground in front of him isn’t shivering. She’s young. Maybe 25, long scraggly blonde hair, her arms are covered in scabs. There’s a thin trail of blood leaking from behind her left ear. He yanked her off the street in the pleasure district with enough slo-mo to keep her in an isocube for the rest of her life. Add in that she’s unlicensed and it would’ve earned her a summary execution if she hadn’t dangled some interesting information.

 

“I got my first shot around a month ago. Like, a whore can do 5 to 7 guys a night normally.  On this, you can do 10 or 15. You can do more—you _want_ to do more—some of the smaller houses take advantage of that. Not mine. They watch out for us.” She smiles wide, proud. “They know you’ll wear your pussy out going like that every night.”

 

Dredd watches her silently, and she begins to wiggle her high-heeled foot against the concrete. “Do you want to know where they make it or what, Judge?” she finally snaps.

 

“Why would I want to know that?”

 

“I know you pigs don’t care about us, but you think this is going to stay in the pleasure district?”

 

He doesn’t respond, but she laughs anyway, her eyes lolling around in her head. Then she quiets suddenly, looking like she can’t remember what they were talking about. He knows that’s a common side-effect of long-term slo-mo use. Dredd isn’t sure he’ll be able to trust anything she might tell him, but she’s right. If a new drug is about to hit the street, learning about it now is better than learning about it later.

 

“Tell me what you know.”

 

She does; he makes her repeat it, then sentences her to forty-five years. She cries as they drag her to the wagon.

 

Dredd looks on.

 

Just another day in the meat grinder.

 

\---

 

He calls for backup before going to the house the prostitute told him about and he’s not surprised when Anderson answers the call. She’s been a full-fledged judge for about a year now. He doesn’t keep tabs on her, but their day at Peach Trees has become legendary and people seem to like to keep him updated. They say she takes special interest in policing the Pleasure District. That she’s already broken up more illegal houses and arrested more pimps than Judges who’ve been active for years.

 

He expects nothing less of her.  

 

“Long time, no see,” she says with a smile, walking up to him.

 

Dredd grunts and nods in her direction. “Got a tip about a new drug being manufactured in this house.”

 

“New drug? I haven’t heard anything.”

 

“Hasn’t blown up yet. We might be able to catch it before it does.”

 

“And I thought I was the only one trying to save the world.”

 

Dredd just rolls his eyes and continues updating her. “They shoot the girls up with it. My informant says it’s some kind of aphrodisiac. She didn’t have much more information than that.”

 

Anderson nods and cracks her knuckles.

 

There’s suddenly a loud whistle and they turn just in time to see a pimple-faced kid turn tail and disappear down one of the alleys to their left.

 

“And there goes the element of surprise.” She stands very still for a moment and stares at the house, then sighs, pulling out her gun and checking the bullets. “I don’t sense anyone inside, but maybe we should call for reinforcements?”

 

“This place isn’t connected,” Dredd’s frown deepens. “Nothing two judges can’t handle.”

 

Anderson shields her eyes from the sun and clicks the safety off on her weapon. “Then I’m ready when you are.”

 

\---

 

It’s the middle of the day, but the house is dark and deadly quiet as they move silently through its narrow halls. With all the windows boarded up, It feels like an oven. One entrance and one exit. All he can hear is his own labored breathing and the light falls of Anderson's feet.

 

“Watch out!”

 

Her warning gives him just enough time to turn and his visor takes the brunt of whatever substance this asshole just threw at him. Anderson gets low and takes the shot. Dredd hears the bullet connecting with flesh;, the guy groans and falls at their feet. He takes a second to get a good look at him. There’s something off about his head, but it’s too dark and he doesn’t have time to examine it further.

 

He quickly attaches his breathing apparatus, turns to check on Anderson, and sees her frantically rubbing her face with both hands. It takes him a moment longer than it should to remember she wasn’t wearing her helmet. That she never wears her _goddamn helmet_. The hall behind them is empty now, but he can hear footsteps approaching at a full-out run. He grabs her arm and drags her into the nearest room with a door.

 

He shoves Anderson to the side, turns the lock, and pushes a heavy desk in front of the door.

 

“Oh fuck!” she mutters, still scrubbing her face. “I didn’t sense him. Why couldn’t I sense him?”

 

Dredd listens as maybe three assailants run past, pulls a sachet of clean water from his emergency kit, and forces her arms away. “Did you get a clear look at him in the hallway? There was something around his head. Maybe another mutant. Maybe your reputation is catching up to you and the rats are adapting.”

 

“You think he was blocking me?”

 

Dredd makes a sound and reaches out for her chin. “This is only water,” he says evenly.

 

“Open your lids, I’m going to rinse out your eyes.”

 

She’s shaking when he tilts her head at an angle and pours the water into her eyes. He wonders if he’s doing more harm than good right now. If this is some kind of water-activated solvent, he may have just blinded her. If it’s something alkaline-based like bleach, it was too late anyway.  Dredd isn’t a doctor or a scientist, but she isn’t screaming, and beside a red face, she looks all right.

 

“Can you see?”

 

She blinks her eyes open and licks away a drop of water. “Yes. I’m fine.”

 

 _Then what was that shit_ , he thinks. He watches her closely. It’s very dim, but he notices how flushed her face is, the way she’s still leaning into his space, her palm at his vest. Her breathing is still off. He has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what that fucker threw at them.

 

She backs away from him, eyes big. “Are you sure?”

 

Dredd blinks. He didn’t say that out loud. Not when he wasn’t even sure of it himself. He narrows his eyes at her.

 

She’s reading him.          

 

She doesn’t do that. _Not ever_. Not since that first day. Anderson sucks air in through her teeth and rubs her temples, beginning to pace the small area. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she stops abruptly. He’s never known Anderson to lose control of her ability. To accidentally dig into his head like that… she’s losing it. They’re in more trouble here than he thought.

 

“It goes to work quick, Anderson,” he says. There’s no time to pretend that this is anything other than what it is. No time to try and find alternative solutions. They need to get this out of her system fast and the only thing he can give her (and himself) is the illusion of having a choice in it. “What do you want to do?”

 

She laughs sharply. “There’s no antidote, right? I can’t just tough it out?”

 

He doesn’t say anything, and she shakes her head with a laugh. “Right. Didn’t even have to read your mind for that one.”

 

“I don’t know, Anderson.” He answers truthfully. “You might be able to work it out on your own, you might be able to outlast it.”

 

There’s a loud noise at the other end of the hall. “I guess we don’t have much time for experimentation.” With that, she turns away from him and takes a deep breath, then another. When she turns back, he’s facing another woman. She made a decision to turn herself over to whatever drug is coursing through her veins and, just that quick, it took over.

 

Her face is soft. Open and needful in a way he’s never seen. In a way he’s never wanted to. Someone did this. Dosed her and compromised a fellow judge. She’s not his partner, not even his friend, but she’s a colleague. One of a very few that he has any semblance of respect for.

 

Anderson pushes him down onto a ratty couch against the wall behind them, pulls off her regulation vest, her pants and underclothes. She never breaks eye contact as she straddles his lap and the way she’s looking at him... It’s just another thing he doesn’t (can’t) (shouldn’t) want. Something he’ll think of until the day he dies. Dredd frowns harder. Someone’s going to pay for that.

 

She reaches for his helmet, but he stops her. When she moves to his vest, he grabs her hands again.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“It’s not necessary,”

 

She stares down at him, and she’s in his head again, he can feel her this time. Not-so-gentle nudges in places he can’t stop her from going.

 

“You’ve never,” she says, more curious than anything. “Not even—"

 

“No,” he says flatly. “I didn’t want to.”

 

She raises an eyebrow at that, runs her hand down and grips the obvious bulge in the front of his pants. “You do now.”

 

With her abilities, it’s not a question, but it’s still only half right. Anderson isn’t the only one here because of that drug. She rolls against him and he deliberately breaks eye contact. This shouldn’t be working for him. Not when it’s happening like this. His cock doesn’t give a shit about _should_. He’s hard and leaking already.

 

“Take what you need,” he says.

 

What he means is, _take it all_ and she whispers, “I will,” with a laugh against his mouth. One hand at his throat, the other pulling down his zipper. “Everything you’ve got.” She pulls him free and runs her hand from base to tip, starts working him inside. Her breath catches in the back of her throat, a tinny _uh!_ he’ll only realize he was straining to hear long after this ends.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moans with just the tip of him in. She’s squeezing the head of his dick, staring at the ceiling with a strung-out grin. He’s once again struck by how dangerous this drug will be on the street.

 

“That’s so good,” she moans.

 

Dredd breathes deep, feels a bead of sweat roll down his back, doesn’t move an inch.

 

Anderson doesn’t need him to. She’s taking him deeper now. Slowly. Too, slowly. He can feel her body shuddering and clenching and sucking at every inch of him. He can feel her move her hand down between her legs. He can see her throw her head back from the corner of his eye. He can hear her beginning to fuck him. A slick, driving rhythm it would be easy to sink into. He won’t let himself.

 

He shouldn’t watch her, shouldn’t touch her any more than he absolutely has to. The fucking is one thing, a necessary evil. Something they didn’t have any choice in. Taking her tits in his palms, watching her fingers move between her legs… that would be something else entirely.

 

Once again, he’s thankful for the helmet that hides most of his face. That makes him into more of a machine than a man. She has a way around that of course, but as out of it as she is—

 

“You don’t fool me,” she whispers. Her pointer and middle fingers, the ones that were rubbing her clit moments before, are pressing against his bottom lip now, working their way into his mouth and— _oh fuck_ —he’s sucking them in, tasting her.

 

He wants to get on his knees, to open her up with his tongue. He wants to bend her over the arm of this sofa. To work her over exactly how she wants him to. He wants to fuck up into her.

 

He wants, _he wants_ —

 

“Then do it,” she orders and, though many believe otherwise, Dredd is only human.

 

He’s slipping down in the seat, his hands on her hips, before he can think better of it. He spreads his feet out and levers his hips up in sharp thrusts. Once, twice... she comes with a startled laugh on the fifth. He comes without a sound on the seventh.  

 

She collapses flat against his chest afterward. Not for long, it must be less than thirty seconds, before she lifts her head and looks him in the eye. She could go again, he can see it. _Wants_ to go again, but that was just enough to take the edge off. She gives him another long look, then she’s up and pulling her clothes together.

 

He turns away while she gets her pants and undershirt on, puts himself away and goes to listen at the door. There’s movement out there. Maybe one more guy than before. They’re waiting. He pulls his piece and checks the rounds: Dredd’s got something for them.

 

“You good, Anderson?”

 

She’s zipping up her bulletproof vest, her eyes closed tight and when she opens them again, her gaze is hard. That woman from before (the one who climbed into his lap. Sweeter than anyone born into this shitty world had any right to be. Smile in her eyes. Teeth at his jugular.  Wet mouth, wet lips, wet pussy. _All wet._ ) is gone.

 

She pulls out her weapon. “I’m good.”

 

Dredd moves toward the door and gets into position. “Then let’s go.”

 

He doesn’t have to say it twice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your help, Morbane!


End file.
